Insulinated Polaroids
by ashleyjordan
Summary: "He's been away for awhile, caught in the hallucinations of his mind. I'm here, trying to bring him back."  Nick & Joe featured concerning Nick's diabetes, oneshot, complete!


**This was the assignment I received from my English teacher on 10/5/08-we had to choose a disease and write a short narration model based on the symptoms. I chose Diabetes and featured Nick Jonas from the Jonas Brothers in my project, without anyone in my class even knowing. Pretty stealthy work there, huh? I obviously changed a few things but good news, I got an A++ and she read it in front of the whole class :D This was written when I was in 9****th**** grade and probably isn't one of my better works yet I wanted to share it. Enjoy!**

**Nick & Joe Jonas belong to themselves; I have no copyright to this or their characters-it is purely a work of fiction.**

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><p>He sits holding the remote, starting at the blank TV screen. His eyes are bright as stars. At least they used to be. As a child, I always looked into his eyes and discovered the joys of life. But for the past two months, I've seen nothing there. The disease that consumes his heart is like a leech sucking away at his personality and his life.<p>

He never used to be like this. He only becomes this way when he's suddenly aggravated or disturbed from his solitude. In fact, he wasn't really that bad until three weeks ago, although he's been inflicted with Diabetes for about a year now. He knows that he is sick.

"Hey Nick," I whisper, hoping that he'll notice my presence. His body shows barely any of his sixteen years.

He flinches at my voice, and I secretly hope he'll reveal one of his gorgeous smiles or say one of his simple phrases like, "Hey darling," followed by a quick stream of laughter. Only I know he won't. He doesn't smile much anymore.

"What do you want?" He questions, eyes wary like a cornered dog, his dark hazel eyes staring accusingly yet cautiously at me.

"It's just me, Joe. Remember, me bro? I just stopped by to say hello. Man, you don't need to be so jumpy, I'm not going to make fun of you or hurt you, you know that."

"I don't know if I can believe that anymore," He states, slowly turning to face the blank screen once again. Striding over to the oak credenza, I retrieved a small dark brown picture frame from its place next to the cream-colored telephone.

"Look Nick," I coaxed, speaking invitingly as I displayed the simple portrait.

"That's the both of us. See, you have your arm around my neck…and look, we're both smiling like we used to." My gaze flicked over to see if my words made any impact yet I only caught the glimpse of a being materialized in a void of nothingness. "Don't you remember?"

"Oh Joe!" He unexpectedly exclaimed, "Of course I remember! That place seems familiar, but I don't know where we were." I sigh, casually sidling up to my younger brother near his space on the couch. Maybe he's just joking. He knows where that picture was taken. He must.

"Well, Nick, that was when we were going into the 7th grade. It was right outside the classroom door on the first day of school. You were nervous about going in and I seemed to care less." I paused to chuckle, my fingertips passing over the faded polaroid, "Mom had a camera and made us take a picture. I'm glad she did." The corners of my mouth turned up as I tilted my head to face Nicolas,

"You hugged me, remember?"

"I…I don't." Pain exploded in my chest at this revelation; my hands rolled into tight fists of anger.

"And why not Nick?"

"Why should I?" He retorted, forcefully rotating his chin away from my face while he darkly muttered, "It's not that import anyways, it's just some old picture."

"I can't believe you! It's not just a dumb old photo-not to me." I took a step towards him, a hand outstretched as my anger got the better of me,

"You have no right to ignore me or to act like I don't matter, just because you are depressed and feel sorry for yourself!"

"I don't need this, especially not from you!" He growled, digging the base of his chin into the crook of his neck, decidedly content with the emotionless quilt spread out over the twin-sized trundle bed that belonged to him.

"But Nick, I'm just trying to-"

"Save it! I don't want to hear anything you have to say!" Refusing to admit defeat, I continued advancing,

"Nick please just listen..." I crouched beside him, attempting to rest my palm on his shoulder. As soon as my flesh contacted his hunched posture, he spun around, shrugging my arm from him,

"Stop! I don't need you or anybody else, just leave me alone!" His words came at me like knives, sharp as a razor blade; not malicious, just unknowingly hurtful.

My eyes suddenly filled with hot tears that stung, and I struggled to blink them away. Here my beloved brother was, the boy I loved as much as I love life itself, telling me to stay out of his existence. He had always ran to me, enthusiastic and warm but now he was coiled like a snake, bearing fangs dripping with cold venom.

"Nick, don't say that! Please?" I helplessly implored, "Why can't you see that I'm here for you and that I'm trying to understand?"

"Yeah right, everyone pities me and says petty words of understanding but none of you really do; none of you can!"

At that, I turned my back. I almost turned to leave the room, to escape so that he would not see my tears. If I left now, he would never know how much he meant to me. And at least I would not have to feel this rejection. Slowly, I paced towards the door, tears blurring my vision.

"You don't understand Joe…how would you know?" Suddenly I halted upon hearing his demand, whirling around with fresh resolve,

"Because," I inhaled sharply as I slowly turned to face my brother, "I see what you're going through! Y-you're not yourself; I see how you've changed." I hesitated, struggling to keep my voice from cracking with emotion.

"I don't want you to feel that pain anymore." I gazed at him, trying to make eye contact through the barrage of tears that threatened to spill down my face. He glanced at me, confused. He then sighed in frustration, running a hand through his curly brown hair.

"That's insane! I haven't changed. Well…maybe." He murmured. A single tear escaped out of the corned of my eyes, slithering down my cold cheek. I brushed it away quickly, yet I know I was not fast enough to conceal my sorrow. His perceptive nature saw through my efforts to conceal the message that was hidden behind my lips. There was no denying that he saw the liquid crystal upon my flustered features for I was clearly unable to veil my shame from him. A soft voice inquired moments later,

"Darling, why are you crying?" My heart fluttered at the name and I wanted to tell him so badly all the emotions trapped within my heart. All I would need to say to explain would be:

_ "Nick, you have a disease, a disease known as Diabetes. Your body cannot produce a sufficient amount of insulin, which makes you have mood swings. You get angry, depressed and you don't like to be around anyone. Yet the worst thing, besides potentially dying, is that you become someone else-someone I don't know. You forget who you are. And that makes me so upset; frustrated that I could lose you although I can do nothing about it, no matter how hard I try."_

Only it's no use. Even if you get enough insulin pumped into your blood stream, it'll wear out and this'll happen all over again. I'll lose that bright, happy boy that loved everything in the world; the boy who loved me.

"You have such beautiful brown hair," I whisper, trying to avoid the subject of my embarrassing melt down. His hair is a light brown, gentle curls throughout his head. At least Diabetes is not a disease that creates hair loss; otherwise it would have stolen another thing from me.

"Wait…" He murmurs, picking up the photograph of us outside our classroom on that crisp autumn morning, "Is this you here? Boy, you've grown!" A thin smile spreads across both of our faces. Ah, he's joking again.

"Ha hah, you know it! I'm way taller than you now Nick. But you're still short! See?" I lower my hand, placing it above his head as I make him stand up. The top of his head almost reaches to where my collarbone joins with twin, broad shoulder blades; my strong frame towering over his small form by four inches.

He paused, then chuckled,

"Joseph?"

"Yeah?" I ask, suddenly timid; slightly taken aback by the use of my name. He glances up at me, his amber orbs sparkling.

"Thanks for bringing me back." And everything is fine; it's okay. For that moment, my best friend has come back from wherever he's been wandering.


End file.
